


Game of Thrones-Based One Shots <3

by venetianAnarchist



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:52:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venetianAnarchist/pseuds/venetianAnarchist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you drop a bunch of gay losers into the GoT/SoIaF universe? Idk man but it's totally great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game of Thrones-Based One Shots <3

**Author's Note:**

> For the Ramster, because I love this idea and I'm hoping you'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Each chapter is a stand-alone instalment, and they don't have to be read in order, however some of them tie together and cross over because I'm a sucker for that shit.

Luca was bored. He had successfully taken Meereen, and for a few days, everything had been quiet. He now sat watching his soldiers train for battle, armed with spears and shields, swords and blades. The palace was behind him, it's impressive presence making him feel somewhat small and alone out here. His viewing platform was not particularly shaded, and the courtyard below was worse. He would have asked servants to fan him, but as it was, he found he had a distinct lack of them. Thousands of trained soldiers, yes, but no staff that weren't a few cookery maids they had picked up off the streets. Times were tough, but he was relatively unconcerned, at least for now.

The sun was at it's peak, and Luca could feel a headache coming on. He wanted something soothing to drink, perhaps a bath. But he doubted he'd be able to lay still that long. Restless, that was what it was. He was restless. A distraction, of any form, was what he craved. 

And then he got what he was looking for. 

"Your Grace." Said a smooth, confident voice from behind the Targaryen. He jumped slightly, jostled from his thoughts. He knew Remington would turn up sooner or later. He had been doing that lately. Luca had found himself somewhat frustrated when he hadn't seen the sellsword amongst his other soldiers. Remington didn't tend to stick to guidelines. He didn't tend to stick to rules. Direct orders from Luca himself, however, he seemed particularly fond of disobeying.

"Remington." Luca greeted, turning in his seat to glance at him. The other looked so incredibly different from the people that Luca spent most of his time around, and the culture shock was immense. Sure, he hadn't even seen Westeros or experienced it's culture, but he'd grown up with Westeros' norms being his own norms, and people like Remington simply didn't exist there. People so wild and unique and independent.

"I told you to call me Remi." He said, forgetting himself for a moment and coming across as frustrated, before smiling in that strangely cocky way and adding, "Your Grace."

Luca narrowed his eyes slightly and stood up, wandering over to the wooden railing that overlooked the courtyard. He was distinctly aware of the fact that Remington's eyes followed him almost predatorily. He wasn't wearing a whole lot, just a white garment that worked almost like a robe, exposing his shoulder and some of his back, and he suddenly felt self-conscious about it. Luca never felt self-conscious. He was the rightful king of Westeros, for fuck's sake. There was just something about this particular sellsword that set his every nerve on edge.

He was attractive. There was no denying that. And Luca hadn't really felt attracted to anyone before, so he wasn't sure if that was what this was. Regardless, it didn't matter: he wouldn't be having anything personal to do with someone so dangerous, not to mention beneath him. Even if the fact that he went around shirtless most of the time had Luca pausing to admire the slopes of his chest and the way the sun turned his skin to gold. 

"Shouldn't you be down there, training your men? I paid for your services, I didn't exactly expect you to sit around and get in my way." Luca said, not turning to look at him as Remi approached and stood idly by him, looking down at the action. 

"My men don't need any training. My men are trained. Figured that was why you paid them in the first place." Remington replied, nodding down at a few of the newer recruits. "It's them you should be worried about. And they're not my problem." He then gave Luca a winning grin, which the king shouldn't have acknowledged, but he glanced over and glared at him regardless. It was infuriating that Remington insisted on treating him with such little respect. He was so used to people worshipping the ground he walked on, and he wasn't sure how he felt about this challenge to his importance. 

"Listen, _Remi_ , I don't know who exactly you think you're talking to, but I-" 

He was cut off mid-sentence by Remington very quickly spinning him around to face him, shoving him back against the railing, and then purposely pushing him back until Luca was leaning very precariously over the edge of the battlements, clinging to Remington's arms with a wide, fearful look in his eyes. One of the sellsword's hands was touching the exposed skin on his back, and it gave him goosebumps still despite the fear.

"No, you listen to me, you little whore. I don't know who you think _you're_ talking to, but I happen to be the one with the knife in my belt, the skills up my sleeve, and every physical advantage you could possibly imagine. You hired me to fight for you. I'll fight for you. But I won't kiss your spoiled ass like everyone else. You got that?"

Luca only managed a whine in response, swallowing very nervously and shaking slightly. When it appeared that Remi genuinely wanted an answer, he nodded his understanding. And then he was pulled upright once more, and his feet were on the ground, and he sagged back against the railing and gave a shaky sigh. 

"I could have you fucking executed for that." He spat, but there was more fear in his voice than any sort of real threat. He looked like a cornered animal, and Remi grinned. He rather liked his king like this. 

"Oh, but you won't." He said, with such a cocky smirk that Luca curled his lip and narrowed his eyes. 

"I'm a king, I don't make idle threats."

Remington bowed dramatically. "Neither do I."

 

\- - -

 

Luca hadn't been expecting the knock on his chamber door, but it wasn't exactly surprising. It could have been any one of his advisers, with some minor midnight crisis that needed his stamp of approval. What he didn't expect was Remington, armed with a bottle of what he could only suppose was wine.

"What are you doing?" He spluttered, only to be pushed past and left standing in the doorway with a distraught expression on his face. 

"Bringing you a drink, Your Grace." Was the only reply he received, as Remington proceeded to rummage around for a cup. Luca bristled at the way he managed to make 'Your Grace' sound simultaneously derogatory and filthy, with just a hint of charm that you really had to train your ears to notice. 

"It's the middle of the goddamn night. These are my private fucking chambers! Get out!" Luca spat, arms folded over his chest, distinctly uncomfortable that he wore only a nightshirt and silk pants. The weather was relentlessly hot, and he really hadn't been expecting this sort of visitor. "I'll have you thrown to my dragons. Easier than a public execution."

"My, my. That's really no way for a king to speak. You should rinse your mouth with soap."

"Well you should rinse yours with hemlock." Luca spat. But he found himself accepting the glass that was offered to him. Stupid sellsword.

"That's quite fucking rude." Remington said, and the tone of his voice, laced slightly with a snarl of challenge, had a visible shiver running down Luca's spine.

The young king took a sip of his wine, and winced. It was particularly strong, to the point of tasting incredibly bitter. But Remington downed most of his glass in one go, and Luca wouldn't be outdone. He ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, third glass in hand, while Remington leant against the wall across from him. There was a distinct crackle of tension in the room, and Luca found himself hardly breaking the eye contact between himself and the sellsword. 

The wine was making him feel heady and warm, made his tongue slacker, made his wits duller.

"Where did you come from?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at the man across the room from him, who seemed to think that the whole situation was rather amusing. 

"Everywhere. Nowhere. Why'd you wanna know?" 

"You... Look different. Feel different. From other people."

Remington smirked. "Feel different, huh? You often think about how I feel, Your Grace?" 

"Are you asking if I fantasise about you?" Luca paused. Let out a small snort. "Yes."

"That's un-kingly of you." Remington teased, taking a step closer. Once again, Luca narrowed his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, lips reddened from the wine. There was a slightly glassy appearance to his eyes that could have been from many things. "Did you get excited today, when I threatened you like that?"

Luca looked away.

"Could you feel the blood rush to your cock?" 

"Don't talk about my cock." 

Remington grinned. He came closer still, standing over him, forcing Luca to glance up at him through his eyelashes. Remi ran a thumb along the king's jaw, then trailed it across his lips. 

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Luca asked him, swallowing loudly and wincing when his voice cracked mid-sentence.

"What does it look like?" 

"It looks like you're trying to seduce me." 

Remington raised an eyebrow. "Only trying, huh?"

Luca considered him for a moment, biting his lip, letting his eyes trail downwards to the tantalising shapes of Remington's hip bones, the smooth skin bordering on gold from time spent in the sun. He appreciated his scent, the wild musk that had his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to feel those hands on his skin again. He wet his lips. "It's possible that you're succeeding."

Remington tilted Luca's head back, holding his chin almost painfully. And then he leant down and kissed him, and Luca groaned with such open appreciation that he practically vibrated with it. 

Remi cupped his face, then ran his hands back through his hair as Luca opened his mouth for him, eyelashes fluttering. The pressure was perfect, the way Remington intertwined his tongue with Luca's, the way he tasted. He'd never been so sure in all his life that this was what he wanted, what he needed. This was his distraction, and nothing else mattered while their mouths were locked together like this. 

He pulled back for breath, heated green gaze meeting Remington's, before pulling the sellsword down on top of him and moaning when he felt the sharp bite of teeth at his neck. He squirmed, gasping, as he felt Remi break the skin, shuddering and making a hoarse sound in the back of his throat as Remington ground down against him. It felt exquisite, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he rolled his hips against him, feeling his cock fully harden.

"Fuck."

"Such a filthy mouth." Remington murmured against his skin, making Luca shiver and pull him closer. He wanted more than this. 

Remi gave it to him. He tugged at the lace of Luca's shirt with his teeth, pulling it apart, exposing his chest. He then kissed his way down, making Luca cant his hips up in a desperate bid for attention. "Like that, little king?" 

Luca only managed to groan his approval as Remington decided to nip at his erection through the thin fabric of his pants. The pain was brilliant, harsh enough to make his breath catch, but lovely enough to leave him wanting more.

"Do that again." He begged, in a voice that he certainly never thought himself possible of using. He was a king, yes, but right now he was nothing more than an incredibly horny man presented with a wonderfully hot way to relieve stress.

Remi obliged him, mouthing at his cock and grinning when Luca gasped. He didn't remove his pants just yet, just grazed his teeth across the head and sucked lightly at the shaft as Luca carded his hands through his hair. He couldn't seem to keep still, couldn't keep his hands to himself. If he wasn't yanking at Remi's hair, he was running his fingertips along his shoulders, feeling the firm muscle there, or balling them into fists to clutch desperately at the sheets. 

"So good." Luca moaned, quivering slightly as Remi finally pulled back the material of his pants and released him from their confines. He felt so much more sensitive now, and just the feeling of Remi's breath against his cock make him bite his lip. 

Remi didn't need to ask again, didn't need any further confirmation. He simply ducked his head and took Luca down to the hilt, making him groan uncontrollably and thrash his head from side to side. The other man bobbed up and down now, taking him in expertly and then coming back up to suck on only the head. And when Luca seemed to be losing his mind, he grazed his teeth across the incredibly sensitive skin and tried not to laugh when Luca bucked his hips in such an urgent manner. 

Luca was genuinely in a state of pure pleasure. He was a quivering, panting mess, trying to stay as still as he could so as not to begin impulsively fucking Remington's mouth. 

"Please," He whimpered, really quite unsure as to what he was actually pleading for.

Remi pulled off with a pop, making Luca's whole body jerk, before swiping a tongue across his lips and grinning. "Say my name, Luca." He purred, eyes flashing with an unspoken challenge.

Luca was breathless and desperate, biting his lip and taking a moment. He was ready to come, so incredibly ready, but he knew he wouldn't be able to until Remi obliged him. He'd have to do the same in return.

"Please, Remi. Make me come." 

That was all it took, apparently. Remington went down on him once more that very second, giving a few powerful sucks that had Luca arching and gasping, before taking him all the way down and swallowing hard, letting his throat muscles contract.

That was Luca's undoing. The pressure was too much, and he was suddenly spilling his load down Remington's throat with a loud shout, arching all the way off the bed and clutching the sheets like he might float away if he didn't. The spasms of pleasure rolled through him, spread to his fingers and his toes, left him dizzy and gasping and utterly spent. 

He lay there a minute, watching as Remington stood up and idly stretched, rolling his shoulders. Luca sat up, looking at him dazedly. "You're going?" He asked, with a certain level of offence in his tone. Remington simply smirked. 

"I was going to go get some grease. Can't have the king in too much pain while I'm fucking him raw." 

That was enough for Luca. Remington was enough for Luca. And as he'd find out, in the days, months, years to come, Remington would always be enough for Luca.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes:  
> Westeros = a huge nation made up of seven seperate kingdoms on the same continent  
> Meereen = a city across the sea from Westeros  
> Targaryen/s = an ancient family exiled from Westeros, survived only by Luca  
> Sellsword = someone who will provide their services in battle for money, instead of actual loyalty


End file.
